


drape me in your warmth

by deathlytireddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, TATINOF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: "It's like...what if this is all we'll ever do?" Dan's eyes are anxious, nervous.-Obligatory tour fic.





	drape me in your warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: strong language (do I need to include this? It's dan). Mention of throwing up because of Phil's travel sickness. Almost everything I write is sad because I'm a terrible person and this is too sometimes, but not always.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dan stops mid folding, looks down at his half-full suitcase. He has to fit as much as possible, has rolled all his shirts as tight as he can. Phil is already packed, sitting on the bed for moral support.

Phil notices he's stopped, looks up from his phone questioningly. 

They're actually doing this.

Dan pulls his lip into his mouth. Slowly sets a rolled up shirt next to the others. Meets Phil's gaze. 

Phil pats the bed next to him. Dan sinks down onto the bed immediately, laying on a pillow with a small huff. They've known they were doing this for weeks, months. He's so stupid. 

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," he says, sounding a bit hysterical. He laughs at Phil's worried face, eyebrows tense and pushed together. Dan pokes at that spot until it relaxes.

"Dan?" Phil looks down at him, phone still held loosely in his hands, waiting to find out how much of a crisis this will be.

Dan covers his face. "Oh Jesus Christ. We're going on a tour. In America." He groans. "Can we just cancel?"

Phil laughs. "I think we'd have several thousand angry people outside our door if we did." His hand rests on Dan's thigh, a comforting weight.

"Just wait until we move," Dan says. "We'll live in Antarctica or something."

They've talked about that, some. It's one of some many things they want to do when this is all over, when they have room to make other plans. 

"Madagascar?" Phil suggests, eyes lighting up at the thought of lemurs. Dan agrees.

"Sure. We can live in a tree with the lemurs." Dan sits up, stares at the pile of clothes he wants to bring. "This is never going to fit," he whines, picking up a plain black one.

Phil looks between Dan and the suitcase. "I think you have enough of those?" 

Dan shoves him. But he sets it down and picks up a bright pink shirt he hasn't worn in a video yet. 

Phil nods. "That's one evening on twitter I'll enjoy." 

"Oh shut up." Dan starts rolling the shirt. "God, I'll never get the wrinkles out."

"Or you could fold them like a normal person?" 

"I won't have room, though."

"I folded all my button ups normally. And three pairs of shoes?"

Dan huffs, starting to take everything out. "I didn't know you could fold shoes," he says, petulant.

Phil blinks at him, unimpressed, and resumes looking at his phone. 

Sometime later, after Dan has finished packing and two suitcases wait in the hall, underwear and socks definitely mixed up between them, Dan is laying on their bed again. 

He isn't freaking out. Not that much.

He can hear Phil banging around in the kitchen, singing off key and probably leaving every available surface covered in a layer of cleaner.

Phil's mum does the same thing before a trip. It's cute in a funny way. 

Pizza is on the way. The last English pizza Dan will eat in a long time. He's written down a few places he wants to go to, if he can, including one of the famous pizza restaurants in Chicago.

It bothers him, a little, that they'll be traveling so much but won't actually see most of where they are.

It'll be worth it.

As long as Phil doesn't throw up on him again. 

There's a small yelp and a curse from down the hall. 

"You alright?" Dan calls.

"I banged my head!" Is the answer.

Of course he did.

This part of the tour doesn't have the same feeling as before. Dan isn't as scared. He knows they like the show, knows how it'll go. 

"Pizza is here!" Phil yells. Dan hears him walk down the hall, pokes his head around the door and waves a handful of pounds. "You get it. I'll be hiding in the fridge." 

Dan stands, takes the money grudgingly. "Only if you order the room service," he says jokingly.

Phil makes a face. "That's the only reason I keep you around."

"Thanks. I like you too, Philly." He answers the door anyway. 

It'll be worth it. He knows it, Phil knows it.

Just as long as Phil doesn't through up on him.

(Please god, no.)

-

Dan reaches over Phil carefully to pick up his phone, blinking at the bright light and quickly turning it down.

Phil is facing away from him, sleeping soundly. Dan isn't so lucky. He can't seem to sleep, for some reason. 

He's already had his share of sleepless nights, unable to fall asleep in a moving bus. But it's almost halfway through the tour already, somehow. He's used to it, has no problem falling asleep now. Dan should be fine.

He shouldn't be up. He should be sleeping like Phil, the lucky fucker.

Dan turns over, carefully pulling his other arm from under Phil's hold. It's all pins and needles now. He rubs it, taps in his passcode and opens Twitter.

Dan really shouldn't be on twitter in the middle of the night. Especially when he's having a hard time sleeping already. But he just can't resist scrolling through his mentions, mouth turning up at the excited capslock.

He inevitably sees one that annoys him, leaves that and opens Tumblr.

"Dan?" 

Dan startles, almost dropping his phone on his nose. "Why're you awake?" He whispers, turns the phone enough to see Phil blinking and rubbing his eyes. 

Phil pushes his face into the pillow. "Ugh," he groans. He steals the phone, finds the off button and sets it on the nightstand. "Why the hell are you awake?"

Dan bites his lip guiltily. 

Phil shifts himself into Dan's side and holds Dan's arm up, resting his head on Dan's chest. "Talk." 

Dan laughs quietly, turns on his side and curls an arm around Phil. Phil makes a noise of complaint into his chest. 

"What?" Dan whispers.

Another noise, then Phil turns his head so his mouth is visible. "I hate you."

Dan kisses him. He gets a glare in response. He pouts, looking at Phil with sad puppy eyes.

"Why are you so happy?" Phil asks suspiciously.

"No reason," Dan says. In truth he doesn't exactly know either. Maybe it's because of how late it is, maybe it's because Phil looks like an angry cat woken up from a nap.

"Talk." 

"That all you can say?"

"Fuck."

Dan can't help himself. "Maybe later."

Phil sighs loudly, not giving that a response. Dan squishes up against him. 

"I just can't sleep." He feels guilty again. "I'm sorry I woke you up." 

He wakes Phil up too much, constantly. Dan feels, sometimes, mostly when he's being an idiot, that Phil shouldn't have to put up with him. Phil is tired, was horribly sick a week ago.

"Stop that," Phil says, kicking Dan's ankle.

"Ow! Phil!" Dan almost forgets to whisper. He kicks Phil back, accidentally uncovering their feet. "Oops." He quickly pulls the blanket back down, trying not to laugh at Phil's disgusted expression. 

They lapse into silence. Dan thinks Phil must have fallen asleep until he speaks again, suddenly. "I should get a medal. Making you sleep when I just want to sleep and leave you to be bored because I don't actually care." 

That takes Dan's tired brain a moment to decipher. 

"Phil! You're supposed to help me sleep." Dan is trying so hard not to laugh. Phil doesn't seem to have realized, looks genuinely grumpy at having to be nice. 

"Maybe five years ago. I'm not a washing machine anymore." Phil mumbles, eyes closed again. 

Dan is intrigued. He wants to continue this washing machine talk, but he makes himself stop. Phil needs to sleep, even if he can't. 

Dan makes sure his phone is silenced, pulls Phil closer to him and kisses his forehead. "Goodnight."

"Mmm." 

-

The lights flash one more time, the music ends. Phil is almost deaf from the noise the audience makes. Their audience.

Dan is wiping his face, grinning. He hands Phil a water bottle, pulls him into a disgusting, stinky hug. He wriggles around in Phil's arms, chattering anxiously about everything. 

"It was fine, it was good," Phil tells him, once they're alone in the hall, walking to a desperately needed shower. 

Dan nods, opens the door for Phil. "I know, I know."

Phil smiles tiredly.

They shower, eat something. 

Dan is still laughing, or giggling. 

His wet hair is sticking up in tufts and pushed off his forehead, curls forming. He keeps getting up and running around the small room, bringing Phil water or candy or another kiss.

Phil isn't really complaining, as he eats his sixth sweet of the night, watches his partner sprint to the bathroom with a towel over his head.

He just doesn't understand. After a show, Phil just wants sleep. But he's stuck here until everything is packed up, in another dingy, moldy dressing room.

Phil might be in a bad mood, maybe. There's a pounding starting in the back of his head, neck tense and sore. 

Dan comes back a while later, this time with two hot chocolates and a bag of marshmallows. He sits next to Phil, careful not to spill anything. "Here," he says, offering one.

Phil sips it. It tastes watered down and too hot, almost burning his mouth. He makes a face. 

Dan takes a sip from his own cup, wrinkles his nose. "It's just from a mix I bought yesterday." He tears the bag of marshmallows and pours several into Phil's plastic cup, even takes a broken candy cane out of his pocket and mixes the goopy sugar together.

Phil loves him a lot, suddenly.

He leans back, resting his aching head on Dan's shoulder. Dan seems finally to have run out of energy, rests his cheek on Phil's damp hair and lets out a breath. 

"We don't have any shows tomorrow," he says, breaking the unnerving silence. It's so quiet, even the distant sounds of the crew loading the set have stopped. "We can sleep in, stop for dinner somewhere." 

Phil closes his eyes. 

"Then we have a show. But after that a bed, in a hotel, with hot room service and proper pillows. Not that Mr. Pillow isn't soft," that's said with a soft giggle and a little nudge to Phil's side. 

Phil nudges Dan back, almost asleep. "Shit," he groans, "when did you start putting me to sleep with your voice?"

He can almost see Dan's smug smile. "Mmm, I don't know."

Phil hums, nudging his half-empty cup into Dan's hands. Dan sets it down, squeezes Phil's shoulder and nudges him again. "We should get up, I think they're done."

Phil grunts disapprovingly, but he let's Dan pull him up. 

(That night, when Phil's head hurts more and he can't seem to find a comfortable spot on their lumpy, bumpy mattress, Dan downloads a book and reads, softly, until the battery dies. And after that he whispers about after, after, after.)

-

They'd stayed up too late celebrating Dan's birthday, forgetting they had to pack up and leave in the morning.

Dan is already awake, a blurry smudge staring out the window. Phil groans into his pillow. It's too early.

He finds his glasses, changes the blurry Dan into a tired, miserable looking Dan. 

Phil sits up, rubs under his eyes. He stumbles out of bed, nearly hitting his ankle on the bed frame, finds a coffee is steaming on the table.

This isn't good. A normal tired Dan is something he can deal with. A tired, probably hungover Dan that gives him coffee in the morning is a problem. Especially when Phil just wants to crawl into bed again.

Phil joins him at the window. Los Angeles is obnoxiously, artificially bright, dusty and desert-like. He longs for rain and clouds and a different set of traffic. 

Dan seems mesmerized by something below them. Phil follows his gaze, sees a couple taking pictures, kissing and hugging.

He watches the side of Dan's face, his cracked lips, the dark rings around his eyes.

"Dan," Phil says.

Dan makes a small noise. 

Phil searches, thinks what has happened that could upset him. The tour is over. They'll be home before they know it. They've just celebrated their last show. 

Oh. 

"Dan," Phil says again, voice gentle and worried.

Dan makes a scoffing sound, turns away. "No, we're not doing this right now. Don't 'Dan' me." He walks into the bathroom, long legs swaying tiredly.

Phil wants to follow, but knows he should give Dan space. He orders room service for them, barely touches a pancake. He's hungover, stomach tense and uncomfortable.

Dan's emotionally hungover, probably. 

The shower has been running for a long time, longer than it should, meaning Dan is just moping in there and wasting water. Phil finds the clothes Dan forgot on their bed, knowing he always forgets them when's tired and frustrated with himself.

He opens the bathroom, sets them on the toilet.

"Thanks," Dan says, quiet. 

Phil pushes the shower curtain aside, kisses his wet mouth. 

"Thanks," Dan says again, looking marginally better.

"We'll talk later. Okay?" Phil's voice doesn't leave room for argument.

Dan nods, tries to tug Phil into the shower.

"I just got dressed," Phil smiles a bit. Dan pouts, closes the curtain with a huff. 

Phil steps out of his clothes, steps in after him. He wraps his arms around Dan's wet stomach, presses a kiss to his shoulder. "It's okay to be sad."

Dan doesn't answer. He turns around in Phil's arms, reaches for the little bottle of hotel shampoo and nudges Phil away from the water.

Dan is strange like this. When he's upset he wants to take care of somebody else, wants distraction and the feeling of knowing he isn't wasting someone's time when they take care of him after. 

Phil leans into his hands, lets him wash his hair and body, rinsing gently.

"I know it's okay," Dan says finally, wiping an invisible bit of soap from Phil's arm. "That doesn't mean I don't feel bad that I feel bad." Phil's poor eyesight makes the edges of his features blur and blend together.

"It's like...what if this is all we'll ever do?" Dan's eyes are anxious, nervous.

"I think we'll do even better things than this." 

The edge of Dan's mouth goes up, just a bit. He knows what Phil's hinting at. "Okay." 

"Good. That could've been really awkward."

Dan laughs softly, moving closer and inhaling near Phil's collarbone. "I'm so freaking soppy," he whines. "Look what you're doing to me."

"I don't know, I like this Dan. He's a lot nicer."

"Hmmph. This Phil gives better hugs."

Phil pushes at his ankle. "Excuse me. Later Phil is offended."

Dan snorts. "What about sexy Phil?" 

"Sexy Phil is hungover and unavailable."

That makes Dan frown a bit, glance down at their soapy toes. He's a stupidly guilty person, constantly worrying if he's doing something wrong.

"Clean Phil appreciates hot showers." 

The 'he doesn't mind being woken up when Dan needs him,' goes unspoken.

Dan's shoulders relax and he smiles, crinkly.

Phil turns the water off, pulls Dan out of the shower with great difficulty. "Nooo, don't make me. It's cold." 

Phil sets a towel on his head and giggles, pushing it around until Dan has frizzy curls that stick up in every direction. Dan takes one look at himself in the mirror and groans, covering his face with the towel. 

Phil steals it back to dry his own hair and grins at the pink cheeks he uncovers. "Post a picture." 

Dan gives him a look. "Don't even joke." 

He wraps a towel around his waist and goes to find his phone anyway. Phil is wearing pants and not much else, hair damp and pushed off his forehead. He looks at them in the mirror.

What a pair they make.

Dan kisses his cheek, takes a picture before Phil can react. They scuffle, Phil fighting for the camera and Dan taking several pictures of his disgruntled face. 

Dan's high pitched, full body laughter fills the bathroom. 

Mission accomplished. 

They pack up, making sure every sock is accounted for and Dan has checked his precious hair spray is in his bag several times.

They have a flight to catch, a home to return to. Both are strangely hesitant. 

"I feel like we're ending something," Phil says, bags at their feet and standing by the door, not quite ready to leave. 

"We are," Dan says. 

"I know. I just mean..." he catches Dan's eye. 

"Yeah," Dan says. He opens the door, picks up his suitcase. "We still have a flight to look forward to, though. Don't think it's all over yet."

Phil groans. He follows Dan down the hall, checks out and climbs inside a car to take them to the airport. 

They still have plenty to look forward to, Phil knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Troye Sivan's song Bite 
> 
> [my tumblr](https://nostalgiclondon.tumblr.com)


End file.
